


The Ceasing of Silence

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Fainting, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Peter is forced to ride out incurable pains with his mentor at his side.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 189





	The Ceasing of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> this work was half posted in my unfinished works book but here it is finally finished :)

If there was one thing Tony knew, it was that he was going to murder Doctor Doom. He wasn’t going to kill him because the man had managed to damage his suit and break Rhodey’s legs even though his friend insisted it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to them before. The comment didn’t help the inventor’s flumox of emotions, and neither did his protege’s screams.

Peter was why he was going to kill Doctor Doom. That bastard had known with the other Avengers gone (in fact apparently they’d lost a fight against Doom not long ago as well) that he’d bring other reinforcements.

Spider-Man must have been exactly what Doom had been expecting, because when Peter arrived the man had a weapon he’d been itching to try out, and Doom was just as smart as he meaning it’d worked. Almost too well.

Karen had shorted out immediately, cutting off their communication but that didn’t matter because the scream that pierced the air was loud enough for him to hear as he dashed towards the red and blue figure that had then fallen from the sky.

The inventor's thoughts were cut off as he felt another shrill scream against his shoulder. The teen’s small body was flush against his own, the inventor unwilling to let the boy suffer on his own.

“I know kid, I know,” It’d been three full days of the boy’s system cramping, brain firing at different levels of random pains that couldn’t be alleviated. Some pains were easily brushed off, Tony used those times to encourage the boy to eat only for a stronger pain to force it all back up.

Rhodey came by every once in a while to change out the bucket on the side of the bed, but it’d been empty for some time. Peter decided after he’d thrown up on his mentor he’d rather not eat especially since it only made him feel worse.

Tony tightened his hold on the small body, his own eyes squeezing shut at the guttural and painfully hoarse scream being pressed against his skin. His hand tangling in the boy’s hair, securing him closer in his arms as the boy howled his throat raw. 

There wasn’t much Tony could even say and he hated it, whatever Peter had been hit with had to run its course. The avenger assumed that wouldn’t have taken long with Peter’s metabolism but they were on day four and they couldn’t be sure it was stopping.

Tony had almost believed he’d gone deaf when the sound of the kid’s cries ceased, his shoulder also wasn’t shaking with the rumbling of the boy’s cries either. A very good sign. Looking down at the small form, the inventor’s frown was more pronounced at the sight.

The teen’s red eyes were barely open, his dry lips parted for weak breaths to slip through. The kid was exhausted, so much so he couldn’t even pull in a full breath.

“Maybe this is a good time to get some food in you,” Tony tried, the teen weakly whimpering at the suggestion.

“I know you don’t want to Pete, but kid if you don’t eat I’m going to have to set an IV, or a banana bag,” Tony cringed when that resulted with more tears.

“I don’t wanna throw up again,” he could barely understand the teen, his voice was wrecked.

“I know, it’ll be something light Pete okay? You need to eat,” He could tell the boy was using all his strength to shake his head. Tony ignored it even when it hurt him to do so, pulling them both into a sitting position causing the boy to groan.

Peter was no longer crying in pain but fear against his chest, “I don’t wanna throw up again, I don’t wanna, please Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna,” it hurt the philanthropist, especially as he could feel the kid wobbling and shaking in his effort to plea for mercy.

“Friday have someone bring some chicken enchilada soup,” It would be filling and nutritious without it being too much effort for Peter to get down his throat.

“Please Mr. Stark, please,” the teen continued to cry, small hands tangling into the older man’s tank top. Tony held the kid closer, his soft shushing doing nothing to deter the boy’s insistent cries.

The genius's foot tapped against the floor, willing whoever bringing the food to hurry up. The pain might be weak now but it wouldn’t last, and if Peter didn’t eat now there was no way of knowing when the pain would be dull enough for him to eat again.

“Someone order soup?” Rhodey called, holding a steaming styrofoam take out box in his hand. A large bottle of cool water tucked beneath his arm. 

“Yes,” Tony answered with a relieved smile, taking the box and the drink. Hyperfocusing on opening the box and then the little plastic lid over the bowl of soup. In doing so he missed the saddened look that bloomed on his friend's face as he overheard the teen’s cries.

“Alright Pete,” Tony wanted to hate himself for having to force the boy to eat, but it was for Peter’s own good. He knew Peter understood that just as well as he did. But it’s much easier not to rationalize things when you know it will cause pain.

Once Tony had the spoon raised Peter sagged, accepting his fate. The soup felt nice down his abused throat, it’s warmth a better heat than the burning cramps that’d come every now and again, and was much more welcoming than the cold twinges in his hands and feet.

The chicken was chewy enough not to annoy his teeth or gums, luckily the tortilla chips were on the side and Tony hadn’t put them in. Peter didn’t think he could chew on the red and black pieces.

The teen managed to get the whole bowl down, sipping at the cold water next only to sputter. The chill a deterrent to the warmth pooling in his stomach.

“Just a few more sips Pete, you can drink the rest later,” the teen complained, noting that Tony hadn’t given him much of a choice as he pressed the bottle back up to his lips. Rhodey watched the scene only for a moment before taking the bowl and styrofoam casing and leaving them be. 

“Can you tell me where the pain is, and how bad is it?”

“My hands,” the teen flexed his fingers, Tony picking up easily on how taxing the small action was. The smaller pale hands were tinged in the slightest bit of pink, the small movements strained and shaking.

“It’s not that bad, just cramped,” Peter burrowed closer to the inventor, small chuffs shaking him as he recovered from his earlier breakdown. Tony took to the embrace, his cheek resting on the boy’s head as the kid stretched for a second and curled back into his side.

His eyes were fluttering, consciousness seeping out slowly making him slip further against his mentor. In the beginning he used to fight sleep, knowing he’d only wake up to more misery. Now he embraced it, sleep staved off some of the lesser pains, and his brain had been shorting out, his anxiety only making it worse.

Exhaustion had become an understatement, something Peter hadn’t thought possible, and he’d been _exhausted_.

Tony’s arm sat heavily around his shoulders, his hand coming to sweep the boy’s sweating bangs back and lulling him into the abyss.

When the teen woke he couldn’t speak, even the slightest whimper nearly had him clawing at his throat. His position had been changed, his head was leant against the arm of the couch, sweat pooling at his temples, a wet rag folded on his banging head.

There’s a penlight being shone in his eyes and his lips are chapped, the effort of licking them both too much effort and pointless since his tongue was sitting in his mouth like a ball of cotton.

“Peter, kid, I know it’s hard but I really need you to nod if you understand me,” fire is settling across his shoulders like a snake, he can’t move and he can’t make a sound. Even blinking doesn’t seem to be in his control, the pain travels down his spine and vibrates along his ribs.

“Kid...I-” the man’s voice cuts out into static, Peter's last thoughts before he is unconscious yet again is that he must be underwater, that is why he can barely see or hear and it’s getting darker because he is sinking, sadly the water is failing to put out the fire scorching him.

* * *

It’s not an earthquake that has the teen shaking, his limbs aren’t his own and they shift like tectonic plates. He’s hooked up to machines that seem to be scrapping at his insides and flushing his blood.

There is something different this time. There is no pain, no suffering, but he is still buried in snow. He’s freezing and it’s seemingly a good thing, his body is revving its engine once again.

“No more pain?” The question startles the teen for a second, his reaction time painfully slow but it’s something. Tony is sitting at his bedside with a weary grin on his face before he’s reaching out to tuck the teen’s bangs behind his ear. 

Gratefully the teen’s head dips, nearly knocking into his sternum if not for Tony’s hand catching it with a soft chuckle.

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” it's a soft suggestion and Peter doesn’t want to listen to it, not when he has things to say even when he can’t say them. It’s more effort than he thought he had that brings his hand up to latch onto the man’s arm, something in him shattered to the point he needs something solid and real to latch onto.

Mr. Stark seems to understand and doesn’t deter him from his pseudo-hug even when the position is uncomfortable. 

Figuring out how to speed up the process of the toxin had left the inventor withered and haggard. It had been worth the disarray of his lab and the long phone call with SHIELD after extracting the information from Doom in a less than legal way.

He didn’t feel bad about it either, the toxin would have been in the boy’s system for another week, and he knew both mentally and physically it would have been all too taxing. The kid would have needed to be put under or his body might have just given out. 

If the toxin had killed Peter Parker Tony would have killed Doom without a second thought. The kid hadn’t been under his guardianship long, and he didn’t know what he would do if his newly entrusted son had been taken from him.

He’d promised May on her deathbed that he’d be okay, Peter had been the furthest thing from for a while yet Peter continued to insist that he knew what he was getting into when he put on his uniform.

May had known, and the boy’s deceased uncle knew as well. There were layers to the boy in front of him, layers that more often than not overlapped with his own, and maybe that was why he was so attached and letting his arm be held in an aching grip as the teen fell back into hopefully pleasant dreams. 

It’s more than his dad would have ever done for him, it's a shock that he's actually listening to his therapist's words when he realizes he's finally accepted that he is not his father, and the only person he has to thank for that is resting and hugging to his arm with a determination he admires.

"I love you kiddo," if Peter wasn't asleep, Tony know's he'd say he loved him too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Snap: allisonw1122  
> Tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> Insta:Webtrinsic


End file.
